Flowing with the going....

Updated on July 24, 2011

Why one writes is as individualistic as why one thinks.. or even how one thinks. Writing for me was an outlet. It cleared my head of all the little thoughts/ideas/dreams/wishes/memories/daydreams/nightmares. I journaled from 8 yrs old til I was 24. It was a definite web of crazy mixed up and sometimes non connected thoughts. I look back on some of what I wrote, I still remember the feeling behind what I wrote, but there is something I have now I didn't have then... a more defined sense of self.

Writing was something that was secretive, and comforting. It was something I could do without anyone else knowing, that I needed to do on times just so I wouldn't feel as if I were going crazy. As time goes, so to do those ideas. My life is not as mellodramatic as it once was, and I no longer journal. But, that's not a bad thing. My writing definitely defines itself as I go. I am not as creative as I was when I was a late teen or early 20-something... but now my mind is busied with a lot of different responsibilities and tasks I am required to do. Writing shouldn;t have that same regimented "I need to" in terms of scheduling it in. I would rather it flow from me. In my creative times I could write til my hand would go numb. I had to do jot points so that I wouldn't lose my thoughts. And there were many times my writing would bring about odd looks from others -as I penned my most resent idea in the line up to pay for my groceries - I wrote on the outside of my cereal box. I also used up all the napkins on 5 tables at a restaurant I used to go to. This prompted a waitress to offer up some paper, and a request for something written to her. I haven't been back since, and hope that my poem was suitable.

But the zeal for writing comes from my willingness to crack through a layer or two of myself to explore what it is and who it is I can become... even for the afternoon while it rains outside.